A Stolen Coat
by LittleRatWrites
Summary: The anniversary of the last day Walter Dornez spent in Warsaw has come around, and for reasons that have nothing to do with bloodshed, the young butler finds himself feeling incredibly nostalgic. Seeking comfort in his memories, he finds himself wrapped up in an all-too-familiar vampire's coat. [ Young Walter x Girlycard / Walter x Alucard ]
**[ I might continue this at some point, if people really like it, but for now, have a one-shot! ]**

* * *

It had been exactly three-hundred and sixty-five days since that last night in Warsaw, and ever since then, the world had been an even stranger place than before. A queer thing to say, considering that _most_ would have thought the world of Nazi Germany to be a very, _very_ strange place in itself, but not Walter Dornez.

Not that he'd ever _sympathized_ with the Nazi Party or anything like _that_. No, he was honorable to the Hellsing Organization, and his time around the Germans hadn't changed that. Hell, he'd been offered to join them and flat-out _declined_ , but.. that didn't mean that nothing _good_ had come from the war, either. In fact, Walter was quite convinced that, looking back, some of _the best days of his life_ had been spent in Warsaw, Poland.

After all, it was during those years that Walter Dornez had been granted with the _luxury_ of being in a certain vampire's company. Sure, they had been around one another before that, but the young butler hadn't thought anything of it. Not until they'd found themselves in Warsaw together, on the battlefield. Granted, there had been a lot of things that went wrong with their plans, and that sleazy little Major escaping would haunt the pair _to this day_ , but if you looked past all the warfare and bloodshed of World War II, it had almost been… _fun_.

Especially after the fighting, when he could collapse in a torn down, blood-stained barracks, that familiar male's baritone mocking him even in the oddly girlish exterior Alucard had taken on for their time in the war.

"Tired, Little Angel?"

Walter _always_ protest, claiming to not _actually_ be tired even though he was generally exhausted by the time this daily conversation rolled around for the odd pair. Still, the look on his face had always given him away, betraying _just how fucking_ _tired_ he _really_ was and how much he _needed_ to get some sleep - not that it was easy to rest when you were surrounded by gunfire for the majority of your hours, but there had been _one thing_ that always got him to rest…

Alucard would stroll over to him, those vibrant red eyes full of condescension and disbelief, before removing the pure white coat that he wore over his 'female' self. There weren't words, not until the vampire had already bent down and draped the fur-lined jacket around his companion, tucking him in as one might a child despite the gore that surrounded their lives and the scene itself. And despite his claim to not be tired, despite having said that he was _fine_ , that he didn't _need_ to seek out the comforts of sleep, Walter would always curl up a little at that, back to the wall of whatever barracks they took refuge in as he nuzzled into the softness of that familiar monster's coat.

"Sleep while you can, dear Walter. We have a long evening ahead of us."

Grey eyes would flutter shut at those words, finding an odd sense of _security_ in that warm coat now curled around his young body and in knowing that Alucard would be _right there_ throughout the daylight hours, keeping him safe even when he rest. It had never been _said_ , but _the actions_ between them spoke _volumes_ of it, said _more_ than _any_ elaborate string of sentences ever could. He was safe here with his vampire companion, in war and in peace-time, and if the jacket wrapped carefully around his figure hadn't been enough to prove that, the soft, nightly kiss placed against his cheek, not long after his eyes had closed, certainly acted as confirmation.

They had _something_ , though Walter didn't know the word for it at the time. Maybe it was just a close _friendship_ , or a sense of _companionship_ among co-workers and fellow soldiers, or maybe it was something _more than that_. He really didn't know, and even years later, he wouldn't have a legitimate answer for that curious question his younger self had looked back on so many times before. Just what had they been, Alucard and he? And, underneath those monstrous actions and cold words, just _how much_ had his vampiric friend _really_ cared?

* * *

It had been _an entire year_ since then, and while _most_ of the world was moving on with their lives, putting the _horrors_ of World War II behind them, Walter couldn't help feel nostalgic to what he viewed as the 'good old days.' A part of him missed the war itself, but that wasn't the _real_ reason he was feeling so… reminiscent about Warsaw. No, the actual reason for these feelings could be found in the likeness of a tall vampire, dressed now eternally in red, and the way he'd once bundled the butler up in his jacket on those cold, foggy nights.

There had been a sense of comfort there, a way about the actions that had always eased Walter into a state in which he could sleep, no matter how many bullets clattered in the distance or how many times he heard Alucard personally slaughtering a spy that had made their way into the barracks. If anything, those otherwise _terrible_ sounds had served as proof that Walter Dornez was safe while he slept, something that, after the war, he found that he never _really_ felt again. After all, it was over now, and while everyone _else_ could go back to their old ways, relaxing by the fire and pretending that Nazi Germany had _never happened_ , the young solider was not so lucky. He flat-out _missed_ his time there, the things that had happened, the way the world had righted itself each and every day before being flipped to the side at night yet again.

All because of _that bloody vampire_ , and the way his actions had tugged at a young man's heart. Why that jacket, those light words, the brief kisses to his face, had meant _so much_ to him, he would never really know. All he knew for certain was that they had, and now, on September 2nd, 1946, a year since all of those confusingly _sweet_ actions had halted, he desperately _missed it_.

The teenager couldn't sleep to save his life that night, and as he clambered down the stairs of the Hellsing mansion to enter the subbasement, he had honesty expected to run into that familiar vampire. What he was greeted with, instead, was an empty basement, not a thing out of place apart from two very noticeable things.

One, Alucard was gone - that shouldn't have surprised him all _that_ much, though, considering that the creature was frequently sent out on missions at this time of night. The world may have stopped for this anniversary in Walter's life, but it most certainly hadn't stopped _anyone else_ from fulfilling their duties.

The second thing that was out of place, though, that was what _really_ grabbed the young male's attention - Alucard's large, red jacket was laid across his throne where he usually would have been sat. The table next to it held an untouched glass of wine, probably spiked with blood, though he didn't _dare_ take a drink to test that theory. Instead, he merely crept over to that old throne, curiously peering around the dark basement for any signs that his old friend may have been there.

There was absolutely no sign of Alucard, though, and after another moment of hesitation, Walter did.. a very _childish_ thing, picking that red coat up from its place on the chair and quickly wrapping it around his shoulders, using the edges of his monofilament wires to keep it from touching the ground. Then, before he could risk being caught or take the time to second guess his own decision, Walter hurried back up those dusty stairs and retreated to the confines of his sleeping quarters.

No sooner had the door fallen shut behind him, the raven haired butler collapsed onto his bed, hugging that crimson fabric close. It wasn't the same, not like that fur-lined coat he remembered from the 'good old days', but it still held a similar sense of security, even if he'd stolen it rather than having had it draped over him by the owner. Burying his nose in the collar of the thing, Walter sucked in a deep breath, smiling faintly at the eternally _familiar_ scent that clung to Alucard's clothes. Blood, wine, the tinge of those old cigars that he seemed to burn up just because he liked the smell itself, and something else that was _so uniquely_ _Alucard_ , Walter couldn't be sure what it _actually_ was. Maybe it didn't matter, because in those moments, despite all the nostalgia he felt, the world felt indescribably _right_ again.

It wasn't long before Walter's eyes began to droop, soon falling shut completely as he laid there in bed, the King of Vampire's coat wrapped close to his much smaller figure, just breathing and thinking about all the things that _were_ , _could_ have been, and perhaps _should_ have been.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but not ten minutes after his eyes shut, Walter could have _swore_ he felt a kiss being planted on his cheek.


End file.
